Pineapple upside down cake
Brown sugared cherries
Hidden in cake pan bottom
Sugary and sweet
Pineapple tartness
Delicious
Cake
Our first family reunion
without Grandma here.
Will it feel the same
as it did last year?
The family has all gathered.
The food is on our plates.
Wait a minute—what is this?
We all brought Grandma’s cake.
I'm not a fantasy type of girl,
But right now...
I'm waiting for my hero.
My saviour.
Someone to steal me away from my troubles.
I feel numb.
I don't know how to act,
what to think,
what to say,
or even how to feel.
Everyone around me keeps calling me strong and brave,
But little do they know,
deep down,
I'm breaking apart piece by piece.
They don't know I'm not the type of person
to completely shatter all at once.
Instead,
I'm the type to break slowly.
Piece by piece.
Crack by crack.
Until one day,
I'm completely shattered beyond repair.
Honestly,
at this point,
I'm not even sure if I'm strong
or just numb.
Maybe I'm simply incapable
of accepting the truth.
I tell myself I don't care at all.
And I know I don't.
But that doesn't mean
I don't care what my mom thinks.
Seeing my mom in pain because of me...
That's just the cherry on top
of my crumbling cake.
And by cake,
I mean my life.
And by my life,
I just mean...
Me.
I'm crumbling,
and I don't even know
what to do about it.
Or even
what not to do about it...
The moon decided to learn
how to bake,
And stirred up a giant and
starry- filled cake!
He used the soft clouds for a
bowl of white dough,
And baked it all night with a
warm, glowing glow.
He added a scoop of the
deep ocean blue,
And decorated with shiny,
bright comets and dew.
When the sun woke up
bright, the moon took a
peek,
And fed all his crumbs to the
birds in the creek!
If I find out who has been eating cake in my bathroom,
They will be paying for a new broom,
And a cake a tin free of rust,
That will be a must.
I just hope they never learn,
What went on in the bedroom,
That would cause heads to turn,
While they were eating cake in the bathroom.
Wicked chocolate slab
Marking a milestone
A table for two indoors
Missing the threesome
Not there, three decades
To jubilate from afar
Toasting another year
Wishing her more power
Torn apart so long
Strangers in the dark
Genes beat reality
Ties that knit tightly
The golden child
Mirroring the original
On top of the world
For a slice of cake
“Everyone’s different,” says someone born in May
To the another whose birthday’s in June.
“But we all get a “hip hip hooray!”!”
“Every cake’s different,” say tastebuds to a spoon;
A stable table to some disposable plates
As they hear for the first time the table’s same tune.
“Every bite’s different,” say the plates in turn on the table.
“Every different bite’s bitten to a new beat on the first record
That plays when cake song’s sung and cake placement is stable.
The foreground to “the food of love” is to tape record.
The format of birthdays is repeated, results still differing for
Each year’s wish, released like a parachute pack by a ripcord.
When I was young,
I always got so excited,
When my mother told me I was visiting my grandmother,
Packing my bag I was delighted,
I would get to her manor,
Run up to the driveway,
To see the woman in gold,
With open arms in the doorway,
We would laugh, we would sing,
We would lose track of time,
Every visit was unique but one thing would stay the same,
She would teach me how to make,
Her famous Chocolate Cake.
I came upon a recipe
That wasn’t a mistake,
Though it was for something strangely called
A hummingbird (huh?) cake.
I glanced at the ingredients –
The list was far from brief
But there weren’t any hummingbirds,
Which was a huge relief.
With pineapple, bananas,
Sugar, cinnamon and flour,
Eggs, vanilla, oil and pecans
It sounds great, but gets its power
From its cream cheese butter frosting,
Which must add the perfect touch
To a sweet dessert that many people
Must like very much.
The cake is from Jamaica
So its name, from what I’ve heard,
Is a tribute to, you might have guessed,
The nation’s namesake bird.
Maybe someday I will try it,
But I know when that day comes,
I’ll be grateful knowing there was no
Ingredient that hums!
There’s a man that comes from Margate
Who has a massive passion for cake
He grew very large
Bigger than a barge
Now as a boat he charges full freight.
If you’re a friend, you can go mates rate
But only if you come with some cake
A sponge cake will do
A gateaux or two
And to Timbuktu he’ll contemplate.
I’m embarrassed to be blushing,
all these dry heaves I am clutching.
You have my whole body flushing
almost touching, almost touching.
Overcome with the loudest ache
this fait accompli’s no mistake.
My whole divine laid bare to take
decadent cake, decadent cake.
No time to worry over cavities
Under these circumstances—
Temptation has surfaced
Caution slips away like weak dentures
Answering desire—
Kindled peanuts
Ensconced in ginger syrup.
Dinner was for two, a shared dessert meant to please
Exotically prepared, with apt name to tease
Across the table she’s testing, probing not too deep
The taste lights up her face, no secrets can it keep
Help me out she whispers, into action I leap
Beautiful in texture, already having regrets
Yielding to the craving, oh how willpower forgets
Cream runs soft and silky, soothing over ache
Her hands spoon me more, perhaps more than I can take
Obsession builds again, reaching layer of sponge
Caught in resistance, I choose to take the plunge
Oaths fill my mind, sugar high sets me dizzy
Lost in a chocolate maze, layers keep us busy
Angels driven outward, demons devour inside
This just-right moment’s gone too far to hide
Each dunk goes deeper, the wafers start to flake
Crumbling extra pleasure every scoop we make
Allies in debauchery, our bodies can’t resist
Karma, she’s a b!tch, but tonight we both insist
Ending in the bedroom where our real passion persists.
An Ocean
With twin islands,
Identical but not quite.
Between them,
An ink-black butterfly rests,
Wings spread in quiet command,
Stealing the eyes of passing sailors.
They gather at the shore, worshipping ink and skin,
blind to the waters beneath.
All but Captain Karlek.
He does not anchor
at shallow wonders.
His compass pulls him north
past the islands,
Past the butterfly’s spell, into the Ocean’s origin.
Where depth is not seen,
but felt.
And the question follows:
will Karlek dissolve into her vastness
or drift, like the others,
lost at the surface?
Mango’s most fruity floral sensations
Angelic purée mixes vexing vibrations
Native-born flushes lush bright red heads
Got it going on, the tongue it savors
Orgasmic orange organic fruit flavors
Crèam de la crème
Always in our humble home, a win
Kudos praises goes berserk
Easter Sunday’s desert!
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